a poem
The dark century is in rotation
But did it not begin in holy war
What’s for its end - sacrilege, devotion
How long’s a century, what is love for
If a hundred years, must we endure
Are we resigned to the sins of the past
Can we repent and so make secure
How many falls does it take ’til the last
Who has the consensus to aim toward
And who will release the sword from the stone
In between dreams and make us move forward
Pride in defiance, of elegance honed
A revolution to take from the soul
A smorgasbord of trifles to engorge
The late arrival, a prince to cajole
In feasts and offerings and trust to forge
Make for way and make for understanding
For do you control the strings to the war
Do you not vent with cause by your meddling
Has your hopes not crushed empires before
Thus, to land upon some anointed perch
Tolerated up until besmirched
Hand to your heart in your mosque and your church
Held to wrath’s reckoning by a scorched earth
